Eternal Cycle: Hugs Always Win
by Fiobri
Summary: Cycle 146 279. Can Cycle, LotR. It was the battle against the Dark Lord Morgoth and his lieutenant Sauron. There would be only war. Unfortunately (or fortunately) someone didn't get the memo. Result: Many dropped jaws and a dead Dark Lord.


**I was sleep deprived, okay? Wrote it in the middle of the night as just something. Another short look into Eternal Cycle series and... I don't remember how many Cycles I've published so far. **

**If you want to get a slightly better idea of what's going on I suggest you read 'Eternal Cycle: Massacre Managing' which is the first of this series. Otherwise you can read any of these in whatever order you want. **

**Or just read the terminology and get the basic idea: **

Cyclist: A person who repeatedly gets born into different worlds.

Cycle: One life for a Cyclist.

Can Cycle: Cycle with canon story and next to no changes. It doesn't matter what time it starts.

Trick Cycle: Cycle with story differences, small or big. They have to be noticeable.

Mix Cycle: Cycle with two or more stories somehow combined. Crossover.

Trace: The first Cyclist. A girl, most of the time.

Rina: Trace's other self/inner self/first self.

Drew: Trace's sibling/brother.

Frisk: Trace's sibling. Gender neutral.

**CYCLE 146 279:**

Can Cycle, Lord of the Rings.

"SAAAUROOON~️️!"

Almost every eye on the battlefield turned towards the call. _That_ wasn't how you adressed an enemy, _especially_ this enemy, and _everyone_ knew it. Except, apparently, Milore from the House of Dran. The dainty seventeen-year-old girl danced through battles with enviable grace, all the while grinning happily and waving. _Somehow_ no one was able, or just didn't think, to stop her.

That was the second big 'WHAT' of the day. The third came right after.

Everyone against the Dark Lord Morgoth's chief lieutenant watched in horror as he turned slowly, taking in a rattling breath and… sighing?

"Milore, _really?_", he asked, voice echoing in the silent battlefield that wasn't that much a battlefield anymore. All the fighting had stopped to watch this… this… what even…?

"He _knows_ her…?", someone whispered in shock.

...WHAT!?

Milore _giggled_, jumped over two orcs, and launched herself at the demonic warrior. She tackled him with a-

…_WHAT!? _

She tackled him with a _hug_. A H. U. G! And Sauron _caught_ her!?

"Yes really!", she told the _armored enemy she was hugging and he _HUGGED BACK, "Best way to stop the war"

Their enemy's number two sighed again, "Couldn't you have returned my memories _before_ the war even started?"

That's it. No one understood what was happening in front of their eyes. Absolutely _no one_ understood. And why weren't the orcs attacking? Or the Dark forces?

Scratch that, why weren't _they_ attacking? Still, no one moved as they watched the strangest and _impossible_ interaction of an innocent little village girl and a _powerful war lieutenant not even on her side_. Milore shook her head.

"Nu-uh. No can do. My memories returned only half an hour ago", sadness tinged her voice.

"Oh…", sadness tinged _Sauron's_ voice.

If they didn't know better they'd have thought it was for the fallen people but that just wouldn't happen. Completely impossible!

Sauron continued, "Shouldn't we stop the Orcs and the Dark Lord?"

Milore nodded once. Aaand just as they thought nothing would surprise them anymore the Dark Lord's lieutenant slung the girl to his back piggy-back-style and clapped. It echoed _everywhere_. And sent a wave of energy that just _knocked out every single Orc on the battlefield_.

Someone fainted in shock. Nobody paid much attention amongst the panic and confusion.

Milore watched all the chaos unfold with a mischievous glint in her eye. Sauron painstakingly took his helmet off and threw it to the side, uncovering a surprisingly handsome face. He grimaced as he tugged a chain off his neck and stared critically at a ring with red-hot glowing writing.

"Destroying this, then my 'Master', then vacation?", he asked the girl on his back.

Said girl hummed in agreement but corrected a moment later:

"Destroy, find Frisk, _then_ vacation"

Sauron nodded. The two vanished, leaving behind an unconscious army, dead orcs, murdered Dark Lord, and a helmet thrown to the side.

And pure chaos. Lots of pure chaos.

(Especially in one household after Milore's grandmother found a letter saying said girl needed to stop a war and have a long vacation after. For the next hundred years or more everyone in the House of Dran learned how a little slip of a girl from their ancestors stopped a war)

xXXx

Sauron, or Drew, sat on their beach island they'd created just for relaxation and whistled absentmindedly. His hand was lazily brushing through an eagle's feathers. The eagle was Frisk this Cycle. Milore, or Trace, was surfing and laughing as the two watched.

Middle-Earth never found them. The story of the battle against Sauron and Morgoth passed down generations and became a Legend.

A Legend that was true but so ridiculous that no one believed it.

xXXx

**Well, it was short. And hopefully made you laugh. See you next Cycle, maybe? Or in my previous Cycles. Or somewhere else. Maybe even never again. Anyway, bye and thanks for reading! **


End file.
